The Rat That Bites
by queien
Summary: A young Muraki is desperate to kill Saki before he can do any more damage. However, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry...


[[Written in response to a comment Maiden Warrior left on The Shattered Doll, one of my other stories. You requested bad things to happen, and I have delivered (because what happens in King's Reversal is obviously not bad enough).

Also dedicated to my beta reader for letting me bounce ideas off her (and for enduring all the gruesome shit I write and then force her to read).

Warning: torture, gore, blood, character death. Also, because I know fingernail damage squicks me, I'm going to say right now that there's bad stuff that happens to fingernails in this story.]]

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"Rat poison, young master?" The butler's eyes widened in surprise. "What would you need a thing like that for?"

"I've noticed a certain pest running around the house," Muraki said. "I'd like to take care of it myself without needing to deal with an exterminator, is all."

"Right, of course. I'll have someone fetch you some as soon as they're back from-"

"No! It can't wait!" Muraki snapped. "Do it yourself if you have to!"

"But young master," the butler stuttered. "Only you, myself, and young master Saki are home at the moment. If I leave, then-"

"Just go do it!" Muraki said with a glare.

"Yes, young master," the butler said with a bow before leaving.

Muraki sighed and rubbed his temples. He was already stressed out enough without the help backtalking him like that. "Just...get it so I can kill that bastard..." Muraki muttered under his breath.

Muraki sighed again and got up to go to the family library to relax for a while. He deserved it after everything he'd had to deal with the past few weeks.

His footsteps echoed through the empty hallways, and soft, natural light filtered in through the windows. Although it was a lovely home, it had always felt empty, even more so now that Mother was dead. It had looked like a natural death, but Muraki had his suspicions that Saki had something to do with it. He had always seemed jealous of Mother since the remarriage, and there was something about that cold smile on his lips during the funeral procession that just screamed guilt.

That was why Muraki ordered the butler to fetch rat poison for him. Muraki didn't even care about making Saki's death look natural. After the deed was done, he could just live on the run. He had cash on hand. And even if he was caught, he was still a kid. The law would probably go easier on him, especially after he explained why he had done it.

Muraki had been so deep in thought that he didn't notice the second pair of footsteps ringing through the halls until they were almost on top of him. Muraki turned and stepped to the side just as a katana cleaved through the air, slicing open his cheek. He stumbled back, trying to regain his balance, but then fell to the ground. Saki now stood above him, that sinister smirk plastered on his lips. Muraki stared up at Saki in disbelief. This attack sealed Saki's guilt in Mother's death. However, Mother had been killed so subtly. This sudden disregard for being discreet terrified Muraki. Saki no longer cared about hiding his murders; all he cared about was killing Muraki.

"Saki," Muraki said, his voice nearly a whisper. A droplet of blood was sliding down his cheek from the hot burst of pain left behind where Saki's blade had struck him.

Saki stood there silently, lips still spread in that horrible grin. As though in slow motion, he raised the katana. Muraki froze. He didn't want to die, not yet at least. He wasn't ready. He still hadn't gotten his revenge on Saki. If only he could have done that, then none of this would matter and he would die willingly, even so young. Death wasn't what petrified Muraki in that moment: It was the thought of Saki surviving.

As the katana swung down, Muraki couldn't help but regret sending the butler out on an errand.

The blade sliced though chest, carving through flesh and fabric alike. Muraki cried out in pain and struggled to slide back on the floor, but stopped with a whimper when Saki pointed the blade at his throat.

"Oh, don't worry, Brother," Saki sneered as he lowered the blade. Muraki eyed the weapon, panting hard as panic filled him. "I don't intend on killing you. Well, not immediately, at least." He chuckled ominously and placed one foot on Muraki's groin. A chill raced up Muraki's spine and his eyes widened. "Are you scared, Brother?" Saki mocked. "Your breaths are so shallow now." Muraki wanted desperately to say something, to fight back, but he was too terrified to move. "You're so quiet. Why don't you say anything?" Saki asked. When Muraki didn't respond, he scowled. "Say something!" Saki snapped, digging the toes of his shoes into Muraki's crotch and then twisting. Muraki's back arched and he screamed in agony. When Saki lifted his foot, Muraki cupped his crushed genitals in his hands and rolled onto his side, whimpering softly as tears welled up in his eyes.

Saki paced back and forth, footsteps echoing down the empty halls and mingling with the quiet sounds of pain that managed to escape Muraki's lips. "I want to hear you beg," Saki said eventually. "Beg to me for your life." Muraki bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Saki growled and then spat on him. "Bastard," he muttered, kicking Muraki in the side, causing Muraki to grunt, and then went back to pacing.

Muraki gulped as he realized the exact thing he should say. He wasn't sure how Saki would take his words, but it sounded like Saki intended on killing him anyway.

"Just kill me, then," Muraki said in as defiant a snarl as he could pull off.

Saki stopped. Eyes wide in surprise stared down at Muraki's crumpled body. Then, he began to laugh. "Oh, don't say something like that," he chuckled. "You're tempting me to just do it. I kind of wanted to play with you first. But since you're not interested in playing properly, I'm just going to have to try a different game."

Saki knelt beside Muraki and shoved him onto his back, leaving two drying smears of blood from the two wounds Muraki had sustained. He then straddled his brother's knees, pinning them in place as he grabbed at the hands that were shielding Muraki's still-sore crotched. Muraki fought him at first, writhing and bucking in an attempt to dislodge him, but then let Saki pry his hands away. While Saki was occupied with undoing Muraki's pants, Muraki reached out desperately with one hand toward the discarded sword. However, his reach fell short. Before he could try a second time, Saki had leaned over and pinned down his wrist with one arm.

"How naughty," Saki said, making tisking sounds with his tongue. "This makes me think you were lying earlier. You don't really want to die, do you?"

Muraki bit his lip and said nothing.

"This makes me think that I need to punish you," Saki said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a knife. Muraki pulled on his hand and flexed his fingers, curling and uncurling them as he yanked and wriggled his arm in an attempt to free himself. Saki smiled and kept his grip on Muraki's arm, raising the knife in the air before plunging it through Muraki's palm.

Muraki cried out in pain as the cold blade pierced his skin. Saki smiled and then wiggled the blade to free it from the wooden floor, only opening the gash more and causing more screams of anguish to burst from Muraki's lips, and then let go of his brother's wrist.

Muraki curled up on his side again, whimpering as he clutched his mangled hand close to him. Wide, unblinking eyes watched in horror as blood bubbled up and poured onto the polished floor. He found that his entire body was trembling, especially his arm. This seemed to amuse Saki, who laughed again. "Anyway," Saki said. "Now that it seems you've learned your lesson, I might as well continue." He worked off Muraki's pants until they were down to the knee. Muraki was sure he knew what was coming next, but he didn't care any more. All he could focus on was the icy pain shooting up his arm as he watched all that blood leaving him. In such a situation, being raped was surprisingly low on his list of concerns.

"I'm sure you're rather tight," Saki said. "But that shouldn't matter at all." Muraki heard the katana scrape across the ground, but didn't register what was happening until after he felt coldness followed by a sharp pain as the blade penetrate his anus.

Muraki screamed and clawed with his one good hand fruitlessly at the wooden floor as he tried in vain to escape the pain. The wood at first yielded under his scratching, each scrape leaving scratch marks that left splinters embedded deep under his nails. However, soon, his beaten nails couldn't take the abuse any longer and tore off jaggedly past the quick, leaving streaks of blood with each desperate scratch. When his good hand alone made him no progress, he tried to crawl away with both, the pain shooting up his arm from where he had been stabbed in the hand no match to the blinding pain in his torso as the katana thrust into him again and again, each time penetrating deeper and deeper inside of him.

Saki laughed as blood poured from Muraki's anus and pooled between his frantically struggling legs. As Saki continued to thrust, the struggles soon turned into spasms, and then eventually just occasional twitches. Muraki felt his strength leave him as he was no longer able to move. He lay there, grunting and whimpering as Saki continued to tear through his internal organs.

Saki pulled the sword out most of the way and then roughly forced it all the way in to the hilt. Muraki's entire body shuttered as he felt the blade pierce his chest cavity, the tip of the blade somewhere in his throat. Muraki made a weak gagging sound, and Saki laughed and touched where the tip of the blade bulged out under the flesh of Muraki's neck. Though he could feel the blade embedded inside him, he couldn't feel any more pain, just warmth and blackness that promised to take him away somewhere better. Weak and tired, Muraki let himself descend into the welcoming darkness.


End file.
